The Dream I Wish Did Not Matter
A tropical island.
The palm trees and all kinds of other trees confirmed it. A massive forest rose at the center of the island, thick and ancient. There, a young man could be seen walking, hoofprints marking the sand with each step he took. Because that young man was none other than Grover the satyr, and also Percy Jackson's best friend.
He was dressed like an explorer. Two wooden flutes hung from his neck, although one of them seemed truly special, with animal carvings along both sides. Grover made his way into the island's forest with a certain confidence, pressing the flute against his chest as if ready to blow into it at any moment, alert to everything around him.
The deeper he went, the more noticeable the silence of the jungle became. A place this wild should have been full of sounds, but now it felt as if none existed at all. And, of course, Grover, who was especially sensitive to such things, noticed it immediately. Even so, he did not slow his pace and kept moving forward, with the feeling that he was close to something.
And it seemed he was right.
Not far away, in the middle of the jungle, there stood something like a monument. And not only that; there was also what appeared to be a very old skeleton. Grover approached carefully to examine it, noticing that the skeleton had the characteristics of a satyr: horns, hooves… and a flute in its hand, held by what looked like a thin golden thread.
Grover reached out to take the flute, but before he could do so, he heard noises coming from the jungle behind him. He turned around immediately, at the same time that he took the flute from the corpse.
When Grover turned, several people began to emerge from the vegetation, as if there was no longer any point in hiding. If Percy had been there, he would have recognized some of them. They were the same ones he had defeated before at the camp.
"What are you doing here?" Grover asked suspiciously, instinctively pressing the flute against his chest.
The leader, a young woman with curly, golden hair, watched him seriously, as if weighing what to say. But in the end, she did not even seem to bother. She simply sighed and went straight to the point.
"You would be better off not resisting, Grover. We do not want to hurt you," she said, as if the decision had already been made.
"Did you come for me?" he asked in confusion, looking at them as he brought the flute closer to his mouth.
The others immediately went on guard. Bows and arrows, swords and spears were all aimed in his direction.
"Surrender already. You are no match," she said bluntly. "There are more of us than you."
"Is that what you think?" Grover replied, before blowing hard into the flute.
At once, a mist began to gather in front of him. From it emerged spectral shapes that took the form of wolves and lunged toward the campers. There were two massive wolves and a great bear, whose sudden appearance took them completely by surprise, giving Grover enough time to escape.
"Catch him!" the leader shouted immediately, just as a spectral wolf leapt toward her with its jaws wide open, forcing her to raise her bow to block it.
The bear charged through everything in its path, causing several of them to fall to the ground.
Grover began to run back along the same path he had taken to enter, dodging branches and roots while he listened to the battle unfolding behind him. He could also hear footsteps following him; some of them had managed to push through without getting trapped by the wolves and the bear.
He did not look back until he reached the shoreline.
His ship should have been there.
It should have.
Because right now, the ship he had arrived on was completely destroyed. A massive tentacle seemed to be responsible. At the sight of it, both Grover and his pursuers froze completely.
Grover took a step back, but that was enough for the tentacle to stir, as if it had detected him. In an instant, it lashed out toward him.
Grover tried to run, but he did not get very far. The tentacle wrapped around his leg and, with a violent motion, dragged him away with it, while the campers could only remain there, watching, unable to react.
…
In a nice house on the outskirts of the city.
"Aaah!" Percy shouted in his room before crashing onto the bed with a dull thud. "Ouch," he muttered as he rubbed his shoulders and his head.
It seemed he had really hit himself pretty hard. He got up from the floor quickly, his expression irritated and tired. Waking up from a nightmare was never something he found comfortable, to be honest.
Percy changed his clothes, since he was awake anyway and did not think he would be able to fall asleep again. He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment. Several photos were stuck to it: one of Grover, next to a postcard from Florida; another of Annabeth, posing with her family in what looked like a huge museum.
To be honest, Percy missed them. After all, they were his best friends. They had risked their lives for him and alongside him. On top of that, he was genuinely exhausted between school days and his master's training.
The Tournament of the Gods was drawing closer and closer. Thanks to an agreement between both sides, they had been granted more time to present their best champion. That gave Percy more time to grow stronger.
But it also meant that his opponent would be doing exactly the same.
He wanted to see his friends, even if it was only to receive their support at that moment.
Percy stepped out of his room, which, unlike when they lived in the apartment, was now quite large, spacious enough to hold many things. Among them, a full set of Viking style armor that his master's new companion had given him.
He left the room and walked toward the kitchen, from where the smell of breakfast his mother was preparing could already be sensed. He had barely taken a few steps when he stepped on something hard that made his foot hurt. He looked down and saw that it was a dagger. Luckily, it was still inside its sheath. The handle was a platinum color, with a striking white scabbard decorated with glass details that made it look clearly feminine. It was lying there as if it were nothing.
Percy picked it up and let out a sigh.
When he entered the kitchen, he saw his mother's back as she softly hummed while cooking. At the counter, a young man was eating calmly, wearing a happy and slightly silly expression. When he noticed Percy's presence, he lifted his gaze from his plate and his single eye became evident.
"Hi, Percy," he greeted him with a smile.
"Tyson, you have to be careful where you leave these things. You do not know how dangerous they are," Percy said at once, setting the dagger down on the table with a light thud.
"Oh. There it was," Tyson said, happy to have found the lost dagger.
Sally, upon seeing her son enter, gave him a smile and affectionately ruffled his hair as she served his breakfast. Then she looked at the dagger.
"It is a very pretty dagger, Tyson. You have improved a lot, have you not?" she commented.
"It is for Sally," Tyson said, handing it to her with both hands.
"For me?" she asked, delighted, taking it with a smile. "You did not have to go through the trouble."
"The master said that at least these things are useful for killing a skeever," Tyson said, pleased that Sally liked it.
"I do not know what that is, but I hope I never have to use it," Sally replied with an amused smile. "I will put it on the shelf. It will look really fabulous there."
"It is an ugly, fat, huge rat," Percy muttered, with a hint of jealousy in his voice, though he said it quietly enough that Sally and Tyson did not hear him.
"I will put it in the display case, all right? It will look fabulous there," she added softly, as she walked toward the living room.
"Weren't deadly weapons not allowed in the house?" Percy muttered again.
Tyson looked at him with a confused expression, since he had not heard him properly.
"Nothing," Percy said at once.
Tyson went back to focusing on his breakfast, which consisted of blue waffles and blue eggs. Today was a special day. The last day of classes. And, surprisingly, Percy had passed the year without any problems. With very good grades, in fact. And without having to fight for almost a year with teachers or monsters on the way to class.
Although that was probably thanks to Miraak.
And speaking of him.
At that moment, as if he had always been there, Miraak appeared beside the kitchen. He looked at the blue colored food with a clearly confused expression. He lifted one of the waffles with two fingers, sniffed it briefly, and then let it drop back onto the plate, as if he completely despised it.
Percy wanted to say something. He wanted to say that his master could not despise his mother's food. Not when his own meals were usually made with such… unconventional ingredients.
But, of course, he did not.
He did not want to get hit.
"If you are done eating, get up. You still have many things to learn," Miraak said in a tone that left no room for doubt. It was not a question. It was an order.
"Yes, master," Percy replied immediately.
"Not you," Miraak added.
"Yes, master," Tyson said at once. He stuffed the remaining waffles on his plate into his mouth in a single motion and stood up immediately, before following him.
Percy watched Tyson walk away alongside his master and could not help but frown for a moment. It was not that he loved the harsh training he was always subjected to, but inside him, an irritation was beginning to grow, one that was difficult to ignore.
It was a strange feeling, uncomfortable, and truly petty.
But it was not as if he could control it.